


Take the keys to my apartment.

by nns_kanoe



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Not What It Looks Like, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3701869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nns_kanoe/pseuds/nns_kanoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many moments of subtle tension that went neglected when they were still in highschool. However, after more than a decade of silence, Midorima decides it's time for them to move into a new phase in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the keys to my apartment.

Hawk eyes notwithstanding, it didn’t take stepping into the cafe for Takao to spot his former teammate among the crowd amassed for afternoon-tea; after all, there was only one person with emerald green hair, who remained taller than most around him even while seated.

 

He waved while inviting himself into a seat, draping his suit jacket over the backrest, glad to be out of the windy chill. “Yo, Midorima.” The thought of his highschool nickname for the other man came briefly to mind.

 

He gave a slight chuckle as the man raised his right hand to check his watch. Damn, he thought briefly, he’d almost forgotten that Midorima was left handed. It hadn’t quite stood out since the day Midorima stopped bandaging his fingers after all. “Yeah. Sorry I’m 3 minutes late.” he piqued with a smirk.

 

With a subtle arch of his eyebrow, Midorima acknowledged the tease as an apology, reaching for his cappuccino. “I apologize for calling you out on such short notice, as I mentioned on the phone, I-”

 

Takao interrupted with a snigger. “Whoah, what’s with all the formal speak, that’s cold, Shin chan.” Sinfully, the shorter man relished the resulting narrowed eyes, accompanied by the most wonderfully annoyed eyebrow twitch.

 

Takao briefly surveyed the other man; nothing out of place, no odd little accessories. Perhaps today’s lucky item was something improbably large, or perhaps ridiculous. Not that the Midorima from way back when would’ve minded, but working a couple decades in a hospital were bound to change just about anyone.

 

“... As I mentioned on the phone, I-”

 

“Hey there, could I get an Americano? Thanks.” Midorima noted with annoyance the million-dollar smile that Takao never did quite lose over the years. Even in his thirties, he seemed to be just as much the charmer he’d been in highschool, if not even more adept with years of practice.

 

Riding on that thought, he was caught a moment unawares when Takao turned back to him, the smile diluting into a relaxed grin. “Why the rush? Just relax a little, unwind a bit, it’s your day off isn’t it?” Takao said, settling back into his seat and removing a box of cigarettes from his pocket, setting them on the table. “Besides, it’s been months since I last saw you.”

 

“I can’t quite recall.” Midorima replied dryly, undecided on how to regard Takao’s unchanging air of familiarity.

 

In a similar fashion, he belayed the smoking-is-bad-for-you warning that had been administered by Doctor Midorima countless times prior… Though, he wasn’t sure how much to read into the slightly longer-than-necessary drag Takao took of his cigarette, and opted for silence.

 

“Anyways,” he smiled, leaning languidly on a hand, storm grey eyes transfixing on Midorima in the very way he had always hated most; the way that never failed to seem as if Takao knew everything he was trying to say. “Anyways, you needed to tell me something?”

 

Yet, every time, without fail, Takao would still wait for him to say it himself. The prick. “Right.” Midorima inhaled, just about to part his lips again when the waitress arrived with Takao’s coffee, and was rewarded with another of his debonair smiles. This time with slight irritance, Midorima’s eyes followed the waitress as she skipped away from his partner.

 

Takao didn’t let a second of this escape his vision.

 

“Kinda edgy today aren’t you?” He sniggered, barely hiding his amusement as the tall doctor dragged a palm across his face. “I know, I know, it’s hard for you to ask isn’t it.”

 

“You know full well what I’m about to say, fool.” Midorima grouched, rummaging around in his pocket. “So why not spare me the embarrassment of actually saying anything and just taking it?”

 

“No no, that’s where you’d be wrong. For once, ace-sama.” Takao toyed with the sound of Midorima’s old title floating off his tongue, and subsequently the effect they had on the man sitting across from him nursing his cappuccino. “You need to say this kind of thing for it to be official yanno. Also I feel like being an ass, since for once you’re the one asking me.”

 

Three empty packets of sugar lay by the half-drunk cappuccino, the man smiled to himself; seemed while Midorima’s choice of beverage had changed, his sweet tooth remained ever faithful.

 

Much like Takao had himself; at times like this, he often wondered why.

 

“Fine.” Midorima relented, tiring of his partner’s games. From his pocket, he drew out a set of keys. On the worn out keyring hung a familiar memento from their highschool days; the second button from Midorima’s uniform that Takao had never dared to ask for.

 

Midorima remembered well; upon graduation Takao had emerged from an onslaught, unsurprisingly missing all his buttons. Midorima, despising the fanfare, had opted not to partake in ‘foolish customs’.

 

He’d never quite understood why Takao invested the effort he had in trying to convince him of ‘tradition’ and ‘keepsakes’. More to silence Takao than anything else, he’d relented to put the button on his keychain instead.

 

Just as quickly as it came, that memory subsided. Under his long fingers, the keyring was slid over the table towards Takao, who leaned back in his chair, face lowered and expression unreadable.

 

“The keys to my apartment. We’d agreed on this months ago, and I figured now would be a good time to pass them to you.”

 

Whatever kind of expression was on Midorima’s face, Takao couldn’t tell. He’d been preparing himself for this moment for months, but somehow it still hit him harder than he’d imagined. He’d promised himself not to give Midorima a show, promised to accept the gesture, and everything it meant, with the same goofy ‘partner’ smile he’d perfected through all his years dealing with the other man.

 

Slowly, he reached for the keys, silently wondering why his fingers trembled the way they did, and hoping to God that Midorima wouldn’t notice. He ran a finger over the second button he’d secretly always wanted to even just touch, smirking inwardly at how anticlimactic the experience proved.

 

“Got it. Leave it to me.” He whispered, blaming the weather outside for the slight redness in his eyes. At this, Midorima let out a breath and picked up his coffee again, a slight smile of relief adorning his lips.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Having indulged in a little more small talk, both men decided it was about time to call it a day. Takao was first to stand, the keys sitting heavily in his pocket, bearing the weight of so much more than the simple trinkets they were.

 

“Where’re you going again?” Takao piqued as soon as the cold air outside hit them.

 

Drawing his scarf tighter around his neck, Midorima turned down to a familiar head of jet black hair. “Spain. We’ll be gone for a month.”

 

A chuckle, that Takao regretted was stifled with a choke. “Well, that’s how long honeymoons usually are.”

 

For just a second, Midorima stayed where he was, silently observing the other man’s face. For some reason suddenly, the age they’d accumulated seemed to be showing around Takao’s downcast eyes, when before in the cafe he’d seemed just as lively and cheerful as he’d always been. There was something about the tension in his lips that made that smile seem ever so slightly unnatural, even though Midorima had never been adept at reading into these things. The crease in his brow wove everything together in what could almost be called a grimace. For some odd reason however, he didn’t need to be told that the last thing Takao wanted, was for it to be seen that way.

 

And after a frigid second, that thought dissipated when Takao resumed his default cheeky grin.

 

“Have a safe trip, Shin chan.”

 

Words and thoughts eluded him. “... Thanks, Takao.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of an experimental piece.
> 
> Reviews are most welcome, and thanks for reading~


End file.
